Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch
Chapter Seven
Elizabeth could not help but sigh as she lifted her swollen ankles onto a small footstool, found by Mrs. Shaw in an old cupboard. It was threadbare, and the embroidery was certainly not the current style, but it served a purpose.
As she leaned back, the pressure on her sore feet lifted, and she sighed again with a smile.
She had longed for a child for so long, and she had almost forgotten that it involved quite a long period of discomfort!
Why had no one told her that pregnancy was quite so exhausting?
“Is there anything else I can get for you, my lady?”
Elizabeth smiled at the housekeeper, watching her anxiously. “No, thank you, Mrs. Shaw. No, just a cup of tea and some peace and quiet, that’s all I need.”
The housekeeper nodded knowledgeably. “Yes, I was exactly the same with my first, if I beg your pardon, my lady. I could feel every jolt of a step in my back and feet, and only taking the weight off could give me relief. I remember saying to my Gerald, I said—”
“A cup of tea,” Elizabeth interrupted with a gentle smile. “And some peace and quiet, please, Mrs. Shaw.”
“Right you are, my lady.”
As she bustled out, Elizabeth closed her eyes and allowed the stresses and strains of the day to seep away.
Conceiving a child—why it was what almost every woman wanted. Some were uninterested, to be sure, and plenty who were desperate were never blessed.
But those who managed it…they spoke of the experience as something divine. How many painful conversations had she been forced to endure as ladies spoke ecstatically of the changes to their bodies, feeling the life inside them grow—it had made her sick with envy, and many tears had been spilled in solitude.
She put a hand on her stomach. She knew how fortunate she was and would never wish for that good fortune to be taken away—but if only it could be easier!
Ecstasy?Exhaustion, sickness, pain—that was all she had experienced in the last five months, and it did not seem to matter how many hours she slept. By teatime, she was ready for another nap.
“There you go, my lady,” said the unrufflable Mrs. Shaw as she bustled back into the room. “A nice strong cup of tea, and some biscuits on a plate for you to—”
“Biscuits! You are a godsend, Mrs. Shaw!” Elizabeth fell on the biscuits as though she had never eaten a morsel in her life.
It was only when the click of the door sounded in the room that she realized she was alone.
Mostly peace.The child she had longed for over so many years twisted inside her belly, and Elizabeth smiled. Exhaustion, pain, sickness; it was all worth it. She was halfway through this strange and exciting journey, and then this little person would arrive.
As she munched on another biscuit, Elizabeth closed her eyes and attempted to imagine what her child—what Jacob’s child—would look like.
Her hair, she hoped. It had never faded to brown, and now at over thirty, her blonde hair was accompanied by only a few grays.
Jacob’s eyes. Mysterious, but warm.
Elizabeth opened her own. No, she would not think of him. She would not permit herself.
She would think of their—her child. It was difficult to believe. She would wake in the dead of night in a panic, heart fluttering, convinced she had lost the baby, that her sheets were stained with blood…
Every time, she was wrong. Her stomach was still swollen with growing life, sheets dry and clean, and Elizabeth would lean back and wonder whether she would ever be accustomed to this strange turn her life had taken.
“And they called me barren,” she whispered into the silent garden room.
They had not whispered it. Five years of marriage with no offspring and the dowager countess had not been shy with her criticism—and her questions.
And now, here she was, in Lenskeyn House.
Albemarle had insisted, of course. The house just outside Bath, where both Howard brothers had wed their brides, was empty most of the year. The Earl of Lenskeyn may still live in England, but there were plenty of Howard properties to go around, and Elizabeth was grateful to escape the hustle and bustle of Bath.
The stares, the pointing. It was like being part of a circus.
Strangely, she felt happier here. The windows faced the garden, and all she could hear was the gentle slow chirping of the countryside.
Elizabeth had reached for another biscuit, only to find to her horror that it was the last one when the sound of nature was broken.
A noise, a shout?It came from the direction of the front door, just around the corner. The sound of her butler arguing with someone rose on the air.
Elizabeth smiled. Poor Linscott. He was a city man, really, and had not taken kindly to the new world he had discovered in the rural wilderness.
It had been only last week that he had mortally wounded the village butcher by comparing his meat to what he could find in Bath. The week before, it had been the baker.
Who was it now—the candlestick maker?
As she laughed at her own poor joke, the voices halted. Footsteps could be heard, and then the door to the garden room opened.
There stood Linscott, wearing a frown.
“Who has upset you now, Linscott,” said Elizabeth.
The butler looked a little abashed. “There is a person at the door, my lady. I have told them to depart, that you are seeing no one, but they are strangely insistent.”
“And they want to see me?”
Linscott nodded. “Insistently, my lady, but I can ask them to leave, ’tis no trouble.”
She had avoided all society since she had realized she was with child, and losing Elmore had been the perfect excuse. Only once had she been dragged from her nest at Lenskeyn House, and that opera house had been far too hot.
She wanted to be left alone.
“No,” she said, far more firmly than she felt. “No, tell them to go away, Linscott. Make up any excuse—I am not here.”
“He…he is quite adamant,” the butler said falteringly.
Elizabeth had not expected that. “And I am even more adamant, and this is my house. Linscott, tell them to go away. I am not here.”
He bowed and disappeared, and within seconds, the sound of two men arguing rolled across the garden.
Who on earth could want to see her this much?Elizabeth had few friends, Elmore had seen to that, and she could think of no one who would come all this way to argue on her steps.
Anything vital could be sent by letter, surely?
The temptation to rise and peer around the corner to see who it was increased, but as she attempted to move, her child stirred.
“Have it your way,” she whispered, stroking her belly. “I will stay put if you will.”
All she wanted was for the two of them to be left alone, for all their lives.She could not possibly hope for that with her mother-in-law—nothing would stop the dowager—but random people who appeared at her home?
The sound of slamming doors reached her, and then Linscott’s voice. “You cannot go in there!”
Before Elizabeth could collect her thoughts, the garden room door flew open, and she gasped.
Jacob.
His gaze met hers and then immediately fell to her swollen stomach.
Heat grazed her cheeks. So, he had found out—after all her efforts to keep the news from him! How had he discovered the truth? Who had told him? Or was her one foray into society to blame for the father of her child now standing furious at her door?
Linscott appeared behind him. “I told you, Mrs. Howard is not available for—”
“Peace, Linscott,” Elizabeth managed to say. “Jacob—Lord Westray and I need to discuss something. Please leave us be, and ensure no servants come to this end of the house.”
There was blatant curiosity in her servant’s face, but he nodded obediently and closed the door.
They were alone.
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered painfully, and she could not tell what was having the most significant effect: the nerves of having her secret found out, or just the pure pleasure of seeing him.
Jacob.Twice, she had only seen him, and he was far more handsome than she had remembered.
All she had to do,she told herself, was not think about the evening when they had created this miracle.
Do not think of it. Don’t even—
“Just love me, Jacob. Just love me.”
She closed her eyes, as though blocking Jacob from her view would aid her in comprehending what to do next.
He had made her so happy that evening. If she had died that night, she would be complete. Little had she known that he had just made her utterly complete in a way she had never realized was possible.
Nothing would compare to the happiness he had given her with a child. She would be forever in his debt—and what’s more, he knew it.
She opened her eyes. Jacob had made her laugh, had tempted her to commit a mortal sin, and lose herself in pleasure, then had left her with a baby growing inside her.
In a strange way, though she feared his ire, she was pleased to see him. She could never have requested his presence; it would have caused too much talk.
But now he was here, what did he want?
Jacob did not look happy. The glare he had subjected her to when entering the room had not left his eyes, and without moving, he just stood in the doorway.
“Why did you not tell me?”
Pain seared Elizabeth’s soul. There was anger in his words, as she had expected—but there was hurt, too. He seemed genuinely pained that she had kept the truth from him, and all the reasons she had done so melted away into insignificance.
She should have told him. He should have heard it from her lips.
She attempted to smile. “We have much to discuss. Please, sit down.”
Jacob was clearly in half a mind to storm out of the room and refuse to listen, but as his gaze hungrily took her in, he nodded and dropped into a chair.
Elizabeth swallowed. When one was a young lady, one was taught a good many things, how to inquire delicately if a gentleman was married and listen to a dull person without showing one’s boredom.
None of her society training had prepared her for anything like this! She could not comprehend how to start this conversation, one so wild, so different from anything society had ever known.
“I…I understand why you are angry with me,” she said quietly. “Frustrated.”
“Do you?”
Elizabeth hesitated. The anger had already seeped away from Jacob’s tones, leaving only sadness.
Elmore had always been angry. No matter what, he had only one reaction, and that was to shout and rail against the world, usually ending in him storming out of the house and slamming as many doors as he could on the way.
Not Jacob.Jacob had depth and soul. He felt things in a way Elmore had not, and though he was in his right to rail against her and decry her for keeping this from him, it was sadness that ruled him, not bitterness.
“I did not wish you to feel put upon,” Elizabeth began, attempting to explain the complex emotions that had led her down this path.
Jacob laughed drily. “Put upon? For my child?”
“Elmore’s child,” she corrected quickly. “This child will have his name and no visible tie to you, Lord Westray. ’Tis the least I can give the family I married into—an heir, the heir they so desperately want.”
“Nonsense. The countess is pregnant, is she not?”
Elizabeth had not expected him to know that and cursed herself for attempting to meander around the truth. Yes, the earl’s new bride was with child, to the great delight of his mother, and it could change everything. If her child was a daughter, and Theodosia’s was a son, she would be free to raise her child as she wished.
But if she birthed the heir to the Lenskeyn name and fortune…
“You could be carrying the fifteenth Earl of Lenskeyn,” said Jacob, his voice cutting across her thoughts. “Or you could be carrying a lady of the house Westray. An interesting dilemma, is it not?”
Elizabeth had to take back control of this conversation. Her child would be a Howard. She would not sully her reputation, even if Jacob wished her to.
“Why did you write me that letter?”
Elizabeth saw the pain in his eyes. “I…I did not wish to betray Elmore again. After we had…I knew we could not do it again.”
“But after he died,” Jacob said earnestly, leaning toward her. “After you discovered you were with child, our child, why did you not write to me again? You could have told me all without seeing me. That is all it would have taken, one little letter. I would not have done anything foolish!”
She smiled. “Like storming in here after arguing with my butler?”
Her words finally made him smile. “Well, maybe. I just…Christ, Elizabeth, my apologies. I cannot believe it.”
His gaze, once again, was drawn by the swollen belly between them.
“Neither can I,” she whispered. Her hand, never too far from her bump, stroked it once more. “After waiting, longing for a child…” She swallowed. She would not cry. “In a way, I have to thank you.”
Jacob’s eyes widened.
She laughed weakly. “I had thought myself the barren one, and it is comforting to know that I am not!”
“I am astonished that it took just one time.”
“One incredible time.”
Their eyes met, and heat seared across her body. She wanted to fall into his arms and be kissed by him again, feel the closeness, feel utterly beloved by another.
He could make her feel—
No.She must never give in to that temptation again. She was a widow, a pregnant widow, and though she may have utterly destroyed her character, that was a secret. The world must never know. She would draw far too much attention to herself if she started seeing Jacob Beauvale too often.
“Perhaps I have done this the wrong way,” she said quietly. “But it was the only way I could think of at the time. I did not have many options.”
Jacob nodded. “I can understand that, I suppose. Hardly a normal situation. But look here, I want to visit. To see how you and the little Westray—Howard,” he corrected hastily, seeing her raised eyebrow, “does.”
“You cannot be serious. The gossip! Everyone will talk, Jacob,” Elizabeth protested, ignoring her fluttering heart.
The idea that Jacob could visit her, keep her entertained, be close to her.
“I do not care,” he said fiercely.
Elizabeth knew what she had to say. “Miss Worsley will care.”
She hated herself for saying it. The lady had been unspoken between them until now, but she could not permit this conversation to continue without referring to her.
The silence grew until Jacob finally broke it. “You know, ’tis the strangest thing. I offered marriage to Miss Worsley mere minutes before I found out about our child.”
“Sometimes, I am utterly certain she is a girl. Then something changes, and I wonder how I could not see he was a boy. I suppose we shall not discover the truth for many months—but you are engaged to be married. Congratulations are in order.”
The words sounded as hollow as she felt. She had known how it would be. Overhearing that conversation between Lady Romeril and Miss Worsley all those months ago had been enough. When Lady Romeril put her mind to something, that was what happened.
“Even more reason, as if we needed it, for you not to come here again, Jacob,” she said aloud.
“I will square things with Sophia—with Miss Worsley,” Jacob said in a firm voice, “but this is my child, and I will be near it. Near you.”